Rights for this book: Public domain in the USA. This edition is published by Project Gutenberg. Originally issued by Project Gutenberg on 2012-04-10. To support the work of Project Gutenberg, visit their Donation Page. This free ebook has been produced by GITenberg, a program of the Free Ebook Foundation. If you have corrections or improvements to make to this ebook, or you want to use the source files for this ebook, visit the book's github repository. You can support the work of the Free Ebook Foundation at their Contributors Page. The Project Gutenberg EBook of Mount Everest the Reconnaissance, 1921, by Charles Kenneth Howard-Bury and George H. Leigh-Mallory and A. F. R. Wollaston This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license Title: Mount Everest the Reconnaissance, 1921 Author: Charles Kenneth Howard-Bury George H. Leigh-Mallory A. F. R. Wollaston Release Date: April 10, 2012 [EBook #39421] Language: English *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MOUNT EVEREST *** Produced by Jens Nordmann, Greg Bergquist and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) Transcriber's Note The original spelling and minor inconsistencies in the spelling and formatting have been maintained. Obvious misprints were corrected and marked-up. The original text will be displayed as a mouse-over pop-up. MOUNT EVEREST The Summit. MOUNT EVEREST THE RECONNAISSANCE, 1921 By Lieut.-Col. C. K. HOWARD-BURY, D.S.O. AND OTHER MEMBERS OF THE MOUNT EVEREST EXPEDITION WITH ILLUSTRATIONS AND MAPS LONGMANS, GREEN AND CO. 55 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK LONDON: EDWARD ARNOLD & CO. 1922 PREFACE The Mount Everest Committee of the Royal Geographical Society and the Alpine Club desire to express their thanks to Colonel Howard-Bury, Mr. Wollaston, Mr. Mallory, Major Morshead, Major Wheeler and Dr. Heron for the trouble they have taken to write so soon after their return an account of their several parts in the joint work of the Expedition. They have thereby enabled the present Expedition to start with full knowledge of the results of the reconnaissance, and the public to follow the progress of the attempt to reach the summit with full information at hand. The Committee also wish to take this opportunity of thanking the Imperial Dry Plate Company for having generously presented photographic plates to the Expedition and so contributed to the production of the excellent photographs that have been brought back. They also desire to thank the Peninsular and Oriental Steam Navigation Company for their liberality in allowing the members to travel at reduced fares; and the Government of India for allowing the stores and equipment of the Expedition to enter India free of duty. J. E. C. EATON A. R. HINKS } Hon. Secretaries. CONTENTS PAGE INTRODUCTION. By SIR FRANCIS YOUNGHUSBAND , K.C.S.I., K.C.I.E., 1 President of the Royal Geographical Society THE NARRATIVE OF THE EXPEDITION By LIEUT.-COL. C. K. HOWARD-BURY, D.S.O. CHAP. I FROM DARJEELING THROUGH SIKKIM 23 II THE CHUMBI VALLEY AND THE TIBETAN PLATEAU 37 III FROM KHAMBA DZONG THROUGH UNKNOWN COUNTRY TO TINGRI 55 IV TINGRI AND THE COUNTRY TO THE SOUTH 71 V THE SEARCH FOR KHARTA 86 VI THE MOVE TO KHARTA 98 VII THE KAMA VALLEY 112 VIII THE UPPER KHARTA VALLEY AND THE 20,000-FOOT CAMP 130 IX THE RETURN TO KHARTA BY THE KAMA VALLEY 146 X THE RETURN JOURNEY TO PHARI 156 XI BACK TO CIVILISATION 170 THE RECONNAISSANCE OF THE MOUNTAIN By GEORGE H. LEIGH-MALLORY XII THE NORTHERN APPROACH 183 XIII THE NORTHERN APPROACH (CONTINUED) 203 XIV THE EASTERN APPROACH 221 XV THE ASSAULT 250 XVI WEATHER AND CONDITION OF SNOW 262 XVII THE ROUTE TO THE SUMMIT 273 NATURAL HISTORY By A. F. R. WOLLASTON XVIII AN EXCURSION TO NYENYAM AND LAPCHE KANG 281 XIX NATURAL HISTORY NOTES 290 AN APPRECIATION OF THE RECONNAISSANCE. By PROFESSOR NORMAN COLLIE, F.R.S., President of XX 304 the Alpine Club APPENDICES I THE SURVEY. By Major H. T. MORSHEAD, D.S.O. 319 II THE PHOTOGRAPHIC SURVEY. By Major E. O. WHEELER, M.C. 329 A NOTE ON THE GEOLOGICAL RESULTS OF THE EXPEDITION. By A. M. HERON, D.Sc., F.G.S., III 338 Geological Survey of India THE SCIENTIFIC EQUIPMENT. By A. R. HINKS, F.R.S., Secretary of the Royal Geographical IV 341 Society V MAMMALS, BIRDS AND PLANTS COLLECTED BY THE EXPEDITION. By A. F. R. WOLLASTON 344 INDEX 351 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS FACING PAGE The Summit Frontispiece Chomolhari from the South 46 Loading up at Dochen 50 Kampa Dzong 54 Tinki Dzong 58 Gyangka Range from near Chushar 62 Shekar Dzong 66 The Abbot of Shekar Chöte 68 Military Governor, his Wife and Mother 100 The Dzongpen of Kharta and his Wife 106 Lamas of Kharta Monastery 110 Makalu from 21,500-foot peak on ridge south of Kama-chu 112 Makalu and Chomolönzo 114 Cliffs of Chomolönzo from camp at Pethang Ringmo 116 The Kama Valley 118 Sea of cloud from peak north of Kama Valley. Kanchenjunga in distance 138 Chomolönzo from the alp below the Langma La, Kama Valley 150 Members of the Expedition 178 Cho-Uyo 190 Summit of Mount Everest and North Peak from the Island, West Rongbuk Glacier 210 Mount Everest from the Rongbuk Glacier, nine miles north-west 214 Summit of Mount Everest and South Peak from the Island, West Rongbuk Glacier 218 Pethang-tse 222 Summit of Makalu 226 South-east Ridge of Mount Everest from above the 20,000-foot camp, Kharta Valley 230 North-east of Mount Everest and Chang La from Lhakpa La 246 Mount Everest from the 20,000-foot camp—wind blowing snow off the mountain 278 Temple at Lapche Kang 286 Gauri-Sankar 288 Lower Kama-chu 290 Junipers in the Kama Valley 294 Forest in the Kama Valley 300 Mount Everest at sunset from the 20,000-foot camp, Kharta Valley 316 LIST OF MAPS I Map to illustrate the route of the Mount Everest Expedition. Scale 1/750,000 At end II Map of Mount Everest. Scale 1/100,000 „ III Geological Map of the Mount Everest Region „ INTRODUCTION BY SIR FRANCIS YOUNGHUSBAND, K.C.S.I., K.C.I.E. The idea of climbing Mount Everest has been vaguely in men's mind for thirty or forty years past. Certainly that veteran mountain-climber and mountain-lover, Douglas Freshfield, had it persistently rising within him as he broke away from the Swiss Alps and subdued the giants of the Caucasus and then sought still higher peaks to conquer. Lord Curzon also had had it in his mind, and when Viceroy of India had written suggesting that the Royal Geographical Society and the Alpine Club should make a joint exploration of the mountain. Bruce, Longstaff and Mumm would have made this exploration in 1905 if the permission of the Nepalese and Tibetan Governments had been available. So also would Rawling a few years later. All these, and doubtless others, had contemplated at least a preliminary reconnaissance of Mount Everest. But, so far as I know, the first man to propose a definite expedition to Mount Everest was the then Captain Bruce, who, when he and I were together in Chitral in 1893, proposed to me that we should make a glorious termination to a journey from Chinese Turkestan across Tibet by ascending Mount Everest. And it is Bruce who has held to the idea ever since and sought any opportunity that offered of getting at the mountain. It stands to reason that men with any zest for mountaineering could not possibly allow Mount Everest to remain untouched. The time, the opportunity, the money, the ability to make the necessary preliminary preparation might be lacking, but the wish and the will to stand on the summit of the world's highest mountain must have been in the heart of many a mountaineer since the Alps have been so firmly trampled under foot. The higher climbers climb, the higher they want to climb. It is certain that they will never rest content till the proudest peaks of the Himalaya are as subdued and tamed as the once dreaded summits of the Alps now are. Men simply cannot resist exercising and stretching to their fullest tether the faculties and aptitudes with which they each happen to be specially endowed. One born with an aptitude for painting is dull and morose and fidgety until he can get colours and a brush into his hand and commence painting. Another is itching to make things—to use his hands and fashion wood or stone or metal into forms which he is continually creating in his mind. Another is restless until he can sing. Another is ever pining to be on a public platform swaying the audience with his oratory and playing on their feelings as on a musical instrument. Each has his own inner aptitude which he aches to give vent to and bring into play. And more than this, he secretly owns within himself an exceedingly high standard—the highest standard—of what he wants to attain to along his own particular line, and he is never really content in his mind and at peace with himself when he is not stretching himself out to the full towards this high pinnacle which he has set before him. Now fortunately all men are not born with the same aptitudes. We do not all want to sing or all want to orate or all want to paint. Some few want to climb mountains. These men love to pit themselves against what most others would consider an insuperable obstacle. They enjoy measuring themselves against it and being forced to exercise all their energies and faculties to overcome it. The Duke of the Abruzzi is as good an example of this type as I know. He was never happy until he had discovered some inaccessible and impracticable mountain and then thrown himself against it and come to grips with it in dead earnest and either conquered it or been thrown back from it utterly and completely exhausted, but with the satisfaction that anyhow he had exercised every nerve and muscle and faculty to the full. His native mountains he had early conquered over and over again, so he had to look further afield to Mount Elias in Alaska and Ruwenzori in East Africa; and having vanquished these he would doubtless have turned his eyes to Mount Everest if for political reasons the way to that mountain had not been barred, and he was compelled therefore to look to the next highest mountain, namely, the peak K2 in the Karakoram Himalaya in the neighbourhood of which he attained to a greater height, 24,600 feet, than has yet been attained by any man on foot. The Duke no doubt is human and would like his name to go down to posterity as having conquered some conspicuously lofty and difficult peak. But undoubtedly the ruling passion with him would be this love of pitting himself against a great mountain and feeling that he was being forced to exert himself to the full. To such men a tussle with a mountain is a real tonic—something bracing and refreshing. And even if they are laid out flat by the mountain instead of standing triumphant on its summit they have enjoyed the struggle and would go back for another if they ever had the chance. Others—like Bruce—climb from sheer exuberance of spirits. Blessed with boundless energy they revel in its exercise. It is only on the mountain side, breathing its pure air, buffeting against its storms, testing their nerve, running hair-breadth risks, exercising their intelligence and judgment, feeling their manhood and looking on Nature face to face and with open heart and mind that they are truly happy. For these men days on the mountain are days when they really live. And as the cobwebs in their brains get blown away, as the blood begins to course refreshingly through their veins, as all their faculties become tuned up and their whole being becomes more sensitive, they detect appeals from Nature they had never heard before and see beauties which are revealed only to those who win them. They may not at the moment be aware of the deepest impressions they are receiving. But to those who have struggled with them the mountains reveal beauties they will not disclose to those who make no effort. That is the reward the mountains give to effort. And it is because they have much to give and give it so lavishly to those who will wrestle with them that men love the mountains and go back to them again and again. And naturally the mountains reserve their choicest gifts for those who stand upon their summits. The climber's vision is then no longer confined and enclosed. He can see now all round. His width of outlook is enlarged to its full extremity. He sees in every direction. He has a sense of being raised above the world and being proudly conscious that he has raised himself there by his own exertions, he has a peculiar satisfaction and for the time forgets all frets and worries in the serener atmosphere in which he now for a moment dwells. And it is only for a moment that he can dwell there. For men cannot always live on the heights. They must come down to the plains again and engage in the practical life of the world. But the vision from the heights never leaves them. They want to return there. They want to reach a higher height. Their standard of achievement rises. And so it has come about that mountaineers when they had climbed the highest heights in Europe went off to the Caucasus, to the Andes, and eventually to the Himalaya to climb something higher still. Freshfield conquered the Caucasus, Whymper and Conway the Andes, and the assault upon the Himalaya is now in full swing. It is therefore only in the natural course of things that men should want to climb the highest summit of the Himalaya. And though those who set out to climb Mount Everest will probably think little of the eventual results, being perfectly satisfied in their own minds, without any elaborate reasoning, that what they are attempting is something supremely worth while, yet it is easy for lookers on to see that much unexpected good will result from their activities. The climbers will be actuated by sheer love of mountaineering, and that is enough for them. But climbing Mount Everest is no futile and useless performance of no satisfaction to anyone but the climbers. Results will follow from it of the highest value to mankind at large. For the climbers are unwittingly carrying out an experiment of momentous consequence to mankind. They are testing the capacity of the human race to stand the highest altitudes on this earth which is its home. No scientific man, no physiologist or physician, can now say for certain whether or not a human body can reach a height of 29,000 feet above the sea. We know that in an aeroplane he can be carried up to a much greater height. But we do not know whether he can climb on his own feet such an altitude. That knowledge of men's capacity can only be acquired by practical experiment in the field. And in the process of acquiring the knowledge a valuable result will ensue. By testing their capacities men actually increase them. By exercising their capacities to the full mountaineers seem to enlarge them. A century ago the ascent of Mount Blanc seemed the limit of human capacity. Nowadays hundreds ascend the mountain every year. And going further afield men ascended the highest peaks in the Caucasus and then in the Andes and have been reaching higher and higher altitudes in the Himalaya. Conway reached 23,000 feet, Kellas 23,186 feet, Longstaff 23,360 feet, Dr. Workman 23,000 feet, Kellas and Meade 23,600 feet and the Duke of the Abruzzi 24,600 feet. It looks therefore as if man by attempting more was actually making himself capable of achieving more. By straining after the highest he is increasing his capacity to attain it. In this measuring of themselves against the mountains men are indeed very like puppies crawling about and testing their capacities on their surroundings—crawling up on to some obstacle, tumbling back discomfited but returning gallantly to the attack and at last triumphantly surmounting it. Thus do they find out what they can do and how they stand in relation to their surroundings. Also by exercising and stretching their muscles and faculties to the full they actually increase their capacity. Men are still only in the puppy stage of existence. We are prone to think ourselves very “grown up” but really we are only in our childhood. In the latest discussions as to the period of time which must have elapsed since life first appeared upon this earth a period of the order of a thousand million years was named. But of that immense period man has been in existence for only a quarter or half a million years. So the probability is that he has still long years before him and must be now only in his childhood—in his puppyhood. We certainly find that as he inquisitively looks about his surroundings and measures himself against them he is steadily increasing his mastery over them. In the last five hundred years record after record has been beaten. Men have ventured more and shown more adaptability and a sterner hardihood and endurance than ever before. They have ventured across the oceans, circumnavigated the globe, reached the poles, risen into the air, and it can be only a question of time—a few months or a few years— before they reach the highest summit of the earth. “What then?” some will ask. “Suppose men do reach the top of Mount Everest, what then?” “Suppose we do establish the fact that man has the capacity to surmount the highest summit of his surroundings, of what good is that knowledge?” This is the kind of question promoters of the enterprise continually have to answer. One reply is obvious. The sight of climbers struggling upwards to the supreme pinnacle will have taught men to lift their eyes unto the hills—to raise them off the ground and direct them, if only for a moment, to something pure and lofty and satisfying to that inner craving for the worthiest which all men have hidden in their souls. And when they see men thrown back at first but venturing again and again to the assault till with faltering footsteps and gasping breaths they at last reach the summit they will thrill with pride. They will no longer be obsessed with the thought of what mites they are in comparison with the mountains—how insignificant they are beside their material surroundings. They will have a proper pride in themselves and a well-grounded faith in the capacity of spirit to dominate material. And direct practical results flow from this increasing confidence which man is acquiring in face of the mountains. A century ago Napoleon's crossing of the Alps was thought an astounding feat. During the last thirty years troops—and Indian troops—have been moved about the Himalaya in all seasons and crossed passes over 15,000 feet above sea level in the depth of winter. On the Gilgit frontier, in Chitral, and in Tibet, neither cold nor snow nor wind stopped them. In winter or in summer, in spring or in autumn, they have faced the Himalayan passes. And they have been able to negotiate them successfully because of their increased knowledge of men's capacities and of the way to overcome difficulties that constant wrestling with mountains in all parts of the world during the last half-century has given. The activities of the Alpine Club have produced direct practical results in the movement of troops in the Himalaya. More still will follow. When men have proved that they can surmount the highest peak in the Himalaya they will take heart to climb other peaks and become more and more at home in that wonderful region, extending for nigh two thousand miles from the Roof of the World in the North and West to the borders of Burma and China in the South and East and containing more than seventy peaks over 24,000 feet in height —that is higher than any in the Andes, the second highest range of mountains in the world—and more than eleven hundred peaks over 20,000 feet in height. This great mountain region which in Europe would stretch from Calais to the Caspian is one vast mine of beauty of every varied description. And a mine of beauty has this advantage over a mine of material wealth—that we can never exhaust it. And not only can we never exhaust it, but the more we take out the more we find, and the more we give away the richer we are. We may go on digging into a gold mine, but eventually we shall find there is no gold left. We shall have exhausted our mine. But we may dig into that mine of beauty in the Himalaya and never exhaust it. The more we dig the more we shall find—richer beauty, subtler beauty, more varied beauty—beauty of mountain form and beauty of pure and delicate colour, beauty of forest, beauty of river and beauty of lake and combined beauty of rushing torrent, precipitous cliff, richest vegetation and overtopping snowy summit. And when we have discovered these treasures and made them our own we can actually increase their value to ourselves by giving them away to others. By imparting to others the enjoyment which we have felt we shall have increased our own enjoyment. We cannot expect those who are first engaged in climbing Mount Everest to have the time or inclination to observe and describe the full beauty there is. They will be set on overcoming the physical difficulties and they will be so exhausted for the moment by the effort they will have made that they will not have the repose of mind which is so necessary for seeing and depicting beauty. But when they have pioneered the way and beaten down a path, others will more leisurely follow after. Many even of these may not be able to express in words or in picture the enjoyment they have felt and be able to communicate it to others. They may not be given to public speech or writing and may have no capacity for painting. The flame of their enjoyment may be kept sacred and hidden within them, and it may be only in the privacy of colloquy with some kindred soul that the white glow of their enjoyment may ever be shown. But, others there may be who have the capacity for making the world at large share with them some little of the joy they have felt—who can make our nerves tingle and our blood course quicker, our eyes uplift themselves and our outlook widen as we go out with them to face and overcome the mountains. Such men as these from their very intimacy with the mountains are able to point out beauties which distant beholders would never suspect. And as Leslie Stephen through his love of mountains has been able to attract thousands to the Alps and given them enjoyment, clean and fresh, which but for him they might never have known, so we hope that in the fulness of time a greater Stephen will tell of the unsurpassable beauty of the Himalaya and by so doing add appreciably to the enjoyment of human life. Such are some of the advantages which men in general will obtain from the attempt to climb Mount Everest. But it is time now to say something of the mountain itself. Mount Everest for its size is a singularly shy and retiring mountain. It hides itself away behind other mountains. On the north side, in Tibet, it does indeed stand up proudly and alone, a true monarch among mountains. But it stands in a very sparsely inhabited part of Tibet, and very few people ever go to Tibet. From the Indian side only its tip appears among a mighty array of peaks which being nearer look higher. Consequently for a long time no one suspected Mount Everest of being the supreme mountain not only of the Himalaya but of the world. At the time when Hooker was making his Himalayan journeys—that was in 1849—Kanchenjunga was believed to be the highest. How it was eventually discovered to be the highest is a story worth recording. In the very year that Hooker was botanising in the Sikkim Himalaya the officers of the Great Trigonometrical Survey were making observations from the plains of India to the peaks in Nepal which could be seen from there. When they could find a native name for a peak they called it by that name. But in most cases no native name was forthcoming, and in those cases a Roman number was affixed to the peak. Among these unnamed peaks to which observations to determine the altitude and position were taken from stations in the plains was Peak XV. The observations were recorded, but the resulting height was not computed till three years later, and then one day the Bengali Chief Computer rushed into the room of the Surveyor-General, Sir Andrew Waugh, breathlessly exclaiming, “Sir! I have discovered the highest mountain in the world.” The mean result of all the observations taken from the six stations from which Peak XV had been observed came to 29,002 feet, and this Peak XV is what is now known as Mount Everest. The question is often asked, “Why twenty-nine thousand and two?” “Why be so particular about the two?” The answer is that that particular figure is the mean of many observations. But it is not infallible. It is indeed in all probability below rather than above the mark, and a later computation of the observed results puts the height at 29,141 feet. In any case, however, there are, as Sir Sidney Burrard has pointed out in his discussion of this point in Burrard and Hayden's Himalaya and Tibet, many causes of slight error in observing and computing the altitude of a distant and very lofty peak. The observations are made with a theodolite. The telescope of the theodolite may not be absolutely perfect. The theodolite may not be levelled with perfect accuracy. The graduations on the circle of the theodolite may not be quite accurate. The observer himself may not have observed with sufficient perfection. An error of ten feet may have resulted from these causes. Then there are other and greater sources of possible error. There may be error in the assumed height of the observing station; and the altitudes of peaks are always varying in nature with the increase and decrease of snow in summer and winter and in a season of heavy snowfall or a season of light snowfall. Another source of error arises from the varying effects of gravitational attraction. “The attraction of the great mass of the Himalaya and Tibet,” says Burrard, “pulls all liquids towards itself, as the moon attracts the ocean and the surface of the water assumes an irregular form at the foot of the Himalaya. If the ocean were to overflow Northern India its surface would be deformed by Himalayan attraction. The liquid in levels is similarly affected and theodolites cannot consequently be adjusted; their plates when levelled are still tilted upward towards the mountains, and angles of observation are too small by the amount the horizon is inclined to the tangential plane. At Darjeeling the surface of water in repose is inclined about 35̎ to this plane, at Kurseong about 51̎, at Siliguri about 23̎, at Dehra Dun and Mussooree about 37̎. For this reason all angles of elevation to Himalayan peaks measured from the plains, as Mount Everest was measured, are too small and consequently all our values of Himalayan heights are too small. Errors of this nature range from 40 to 100 feet.” This then is a considerable source of error, but the most serious source of uncertainty affecting the value of heights is the refraction of the atmosphere. A ray of light from a peak to an observer's eye does not travel along a straight line but assumes a curved path concave to the earth. The ray enters the observer's eye in a direction tangential to the curve at that point, and this is the direction in which the observer sees the peak. It makes the peak appear too high. Corrections have therefore to be applied. But there is no certainty as to what should be the amount of the correction; and it is now believed that the computers of the height of Mount Everest applied too great a correction for refraction and consequently reduced its height too much. Burrard brings together in the following table the different errors to which the carefully determined height of Mount Everest is liable:— Source of error. Magnitude of possible error. Variation of snow level from the mean Unknown Errors of observation 10 feet Adoption of erroneous height for observing station 10 feet Deviation of gravity 60 feet, too small Atmospheric refraction 150 feet, too small The following table shows how the different values of the height of Mount Everest have been deduced: — HEIGHT OF MOUNT EVEREST Determination Height as of height Year of Distance Observing station. determined with revised observation. in miles. by Waugh. correction for refraction. Feet Feet Jirol 1849 118 28,991 29,141 Mirzapur 1849 108 29,005 29,135 Joafpati 1849 108 29,001 29,117 Ladnia 1849 108 28,998 29,144 Harpur 1849 111 29,026 29,146 Minai 1850 113 28,990 29,160 Suberkum 1881 87 — 29,141 Suberkum 1883 87 — 29,127 Tiger Hill 1880 107 — 29,140 Sandakphu 1883 89 — 29,142 Phallut 1902 85 — 29,151 Senchal 1902 108 — 29,134 Mean — — 29,002 29,141 The height 29,141 is still, Burrard thinks, too small, as it has yet to be corrected for the deviations of gravity. But though it is a more reliable result than 29,002, the latter is still to be retained in maps and publications of the Survey of India. As to the name, it was called Everest after the distinguished Surveyor-General of India under whose direction the triangulation had been carried out, one result of which was the discovery of the mountain. From the Indian side and Nepal it is not a conspicuous peak on account of its lying so far back. No native name for it could be discovered and Sir Andrew Waugh, the successor of Sir George Everest, called it after his predecessor. From the Tibetan side it is much more conspicuous and, as General Bruce stated in his lecture to the Royal Geographical Society in November 1920, and as Colonel Howard-Bury found in 1921, the Tibetans call it Chomolungma, which Colonel Howard-Bury translated, the “Goddess Mother of the Mountains”—a most appropriate name. But the name Mount Everest is now so firmly established throughout the world that it would be impossible to change it. It is therefore now definitely adopted. Now, this mountain so coveted by mountaineers is unfortunately situated exactly on the border between two of the most secluded countries in the world—Nepal and Tibet. To reach it the climbers must pass through one or other of these countries and the difficulty of getting the necessary permission is what has so far prevented any attempt being made to attack Mount Everest. But recently access through Tibet has become more possible, and it so happens that it is on the Tibetan side that the summit seems most accessible. From the distant views that could be obtained of it from Sandakphu beyond Darjeeling and from Kampa Dzong in Tibet, a ridge running from the summit in a northerly direction seemed to give good promise of access. Major Ryder and Captain Rawling in 1904, viewing the mountain from a distance of sixty miles almost due north, thought the mountain might be approached from that direction. At the same time the Tibetans were distinctly more favourable to travellers than they had ever been before. The chances therefore of at least exploring Mount Everest were much more promising, and Major Rawling was planning an expedition of exploration when the war broke out and he was killed. Mr. Douglas Freshfield would certainly have taken the matter up during his Presidency of the Royal Geographical Society, but he had the misfortune to hold that post during the years of the war and no action was possible. But as soon as the war was over interest in Mount Everest revived. In March 1919 Captain J. B. L. Noel read a paper to the Royal Geographical Society describing a reconnaissance he had made in the direction of the mountain in the year 1913. He showed how attention during the last few years had been focused more and more upon the Himalaya and said, “Now that the Poles have been reached, it is generally felt that the next and equally important task is the exploration and mapping of Mount Everest.” So he urged that the exploration which had been the ambition of the late General Rawling with whom he was to have joined should be accomplished in his memory. “It cannot be long,” he continued, “before the culminating summit of the world is visited and its ridges, valleys and glaciers are mapped and photographed.” And at the conclusion of his lecture he said that “some day the political difficulties will be overcome and a fully equipped expedition must explore and map Mount Everest.” It was not clear whether Captain Noel was advocating a definite attempt to climb the mountain and reach the actual summit, and Mr. Douglas Freshfield and Dr. Kellas who followed after him referred only to the approaches to Mount Everest. But Captain J. P. Farrar, the then President of the Alpine Club, seems to have considered it “a proposal to attempt the ascent of Mount Everest,” and said that the Alpine Club took the keenest interest in the proposal and was prepared not only to lend such financial aid as was in its power, but also to recommend two or three young mountaineers quite capable of dealing with any purely mountaineering difficulties which were likely to be met with on Mount Everest. The hour was late, but I was so struck by the ring of assurance and determination in the words of the President of the Alpine Club that I could not help asking the President, Sir Thomas Holdich, to let me say a few words. I then told how General Bruce had made to me, twenty-six years ago, the proposal to climb Mount Everest. I said the Royal Geographical Society was interested in the project and now we had heard the President of the Alpine Club say that he had young mountaineers ready to undertake the work. I added, “It must be done.” There might be one or two attempts before we were successful, but the first thing to do was to get over the trouble with our own Government. If they were approached properly by Societies like the Royal Geographical Society and the Alpine Club, and a reasonable scheme were put before them and it were proved to them that we meant business, then, I said, they would be reasonable and do what we wanted. This was a big business and must be done in a big way and I hoped that something really serious would come of that meeting.[1] Sir Thomas Holdich in closing the meeting advocated approaching Mount Everest through Nepal, and hoped that at some time not very remote we should hear more about the proposed expedition to Mount Everest. Only a few days after the meeting I met Colonel Howard-Bury at lunch with a Fellow of our Society, Mr. C. P. McCarthy. He was not a mountaineer in the Alpine Club sense of the word, but he had spent much of his time shooting in the Alps and in the Himalaya, and becoming deeply interested in the Mount Everest project, had a talk with Mr. Freshfield about it and made a formal application to the Society for their support in undertaking an expedition. Things now began to move, and the Society applied to the India Office for permission to send an expedition into Tibet for the purpose of exploring Mount Everest. The Government of India in reply said that they were not prepared at the moment to approach the Tibetan Government; but they did not return any absolute refusal. During my Presidency the Society, in conjunction with the Alpine Club, still further pressed the matter. We asked the Secretary of State for India to receive a deputation from the two bodies, and the request being granted and the deputation being assured of his sympathy we invited Colonel Howard-Bury to proceed to India in June 1920 to explain our wishes personally to the Government of India, and ask them to obtain for us from the Dalai Lama the necessary permission to enter Tibet for the purpose of exploring and climbing Mount Everest. Lord Chelmsford, the Viceroy, received Colonel Howard-Bury most sympathetically and after some preliminary difficulties had been overcome, Mr. Bell, the Political Agent in Sikkim, who happened to be in Lhasa, was instructed to ask the Dalai Lama for permission, and Mr. Bell being on most friendly terms with His Holiness, permission was at once granted. The one great obstacle in the way of approaching Mount Everest had now at last been removed. What so many keen mountaineers had for years dreamed of was within sight. And as soon as the welcome news arrived—early in January 1921—preparations were commenced to organise an expedition. A joint Committee of three representatives each from the Royal Geographical Society and the Alpine Club was formed under the Chairmanship of the President of the former Society and was named the Mount Everest Committee. The three members of the Society were Sir Francis Younghusband, Mr. E. L. Somers-Cocks (Honorary Treasurer) and Colonel Jack. The three members of the Alpine Club were Professor Norman Collie, Captain J. P. Farrar and Mr. C. F. Meade. Mr. Eaton and Mr. Hinks were Honorary Secretaries. Our first business was to select a leader for the Expedition. General Bruce, who had had the idea in his mind for so many years, who knew the Himalaya as no one else did, and who had a special aptitude for handling Himalayan people, was now in England, and it was to him our thoughts first turned. But he had just taken up an appointment with the Glamorganshire Territorial Association and was not then available. In these circumstances we were fortunate in having ready to hand a man with such high qualifications as Colonel Howard-Bury. He had much to do on his property in Ireland, but he willingly accepted our invitation to lead the Expedition, and we could then proceed to the choice of the mountaineers. From the very first we decided that the main object of the Expedition was to be the ascent of the mountain and that all other activities were to be made subordinate to the supreme object of reaching the summit. It was to be no mere surveying or geologising or botanising expedition which would as a secondary object try to climb the mountain if it saw a chance. To climb the mountain was to be the first object and the mapping and everything else was to come afterwards. The reason for this is obvious. What men really want to know is whether man can ascend the highest mountain. Knowledge of the topography, fauna and flora of that particular area is of very small consequence in comparison with the knowledge of human capacity to surmount the highest point in men's physical surroundings on this earth. By some perversity of human nature there are men who shy at putting the ascent of Mount Everest in the forefront, because it is adventurous and must therefore, they seem to think, cease to be a scientific object. They profess to be unconcerned with the climbing of the mountain so long as a map is made or plants collected. But the plain man instinctively sees the value of the adventure and knows that the successful ascent of Mount Everest will show what man is capable of and put new hope and heart into the human race. But while it was decided to make the ascent of Mount Everest the main object of the Expedition, Professor Norman Collie and Mr. Douglas Freshfield from the first insisted that a whole season must be devoted to a thorough reconnaissance of the mountain with a view to finding not only a feasible route to the summit but what was without any doubt the most feasible route. We knew nothing of the immediate approaches to the mountain. But we knew that the only chance of reaching the summit was by finding some way up which would entail little rock-climbing or ice step-cutting. The mountain had therefore to be prospected from every side to find a comparatively easy route and to make sure that no other easier route than the one selected existed. This was considered ample work for the Expedition for one season, while the following season would be devoted to an all-out effort to reach the summit along the route selected in the first year. On this basis the first year's Expedition had accordingly to be organised. The mountain party was to consist of four members, two of whom were to be men of considerable experience and two younger men who it was hoped would form the nucleus of the climbing party the next year. Mr. Harold Raeburn, a member of the Alpine Club who had had great experience of snow and rock work in the Alps, and who had in 1920 been climbing on the spurs of Kanchenjunga, was invited to lead the mountain party. Dr. Kellas, who had made several climbing expeditions in the Himalaya and had in 1920 ascended to a height of 23,400 feet on Mount Kamet, was also invited to join the climbing party. He had been making experiments in the use of oxygen at high altitudes and was still out in India preparing to continue these experiments on Mount Kamet in 1921. It was suggested to him that he should make the experiments on Mount Everest instead, and the party would thereby have the benefit of his wide Himalayan experience. This invitation he accepted. The two younger members selected for the climbing party were Mr. George Leigh Mallory and Captain George Finch, both with a very high reputation for climbing in the Alps. Unfortunately Captain Finch was for the time indisposed and his place at the last moment had to be taken by Mr. Bullock of the Consular Service, who had been at Winchester with Mr. Mallory and who happened to be at home on leave. Through the courtesy of Lord Curzon he was able to get special leave of absence from the Foreign Office. While we were finding the men we had also to be finding the money. As a quite rough guess we estimated the Expedition for the two years would cost about £10,000, and at least a substantial portion of this had to be raised by private subscription. Appeals were made by their Presidents to the Fellows of the Royal Geographical Society and to members of the Alpine Club, and Captain Farrar was especially energetic in urging the claims of the enterprise. As a result the members of the Alpine Club subscribed over £3,000 and the Fellows of the Royal Geographical Society nearly that amount. Later on with the advice and help of Mr. John Buchan arrangements were made with The Times and the Philadelphia Ledger for the purchase of the rights of publication of telegrams from the Expedition, and with the Graphic for the purchase of photographs. So eventually the financial position of the Expedition was assured. The equipment and provisioning of the Expedition was undertaken by the Equipment Committee— Captain Farrar and Mr. Meade—and the greatest trouble was taken to ensure that the most suitable and best tents, sleeping bags, clothing, boots, ice-axes, ropes, cooking apparatus, provisions, etc., were purchased and that they were properly packed and listed. In the same way the scientific equipment was undertaken by Colonel Jack and Mr. Hinks. Finally the services of Mr. Wollaston, well known for his journeys in New Guinea and East Africa, were secured as Medical Officer and Naturalist to the Expedition. Throughout these preparations the advice and help of the best men in every line were freely and willingly forthcoming. For such an enterprise all were ready to give a helping hand. Whether they were scientific men, or business men or journalists, they were ready to throw aside their own work and devote hours to ensuring that the Expedition should be a success along the lines on which they severally had most experience. And most valuable was the encouragement given to the Expedition by the interest which His Majesty showed in conversation with the President, and His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales in receiving Colonel Howard-Bury—an interest which was shown in practical form by generous subscriptions to the funds of the Expedition. The Expedition was able, therefore, to set out from England under the most favourable auspices, and it was to be joined in India by two officers of the Indian Survey Department, Major Morshead and Major Wheeler, and by an officer of the Indian Geological Survey, Dr. Heron. It was thus admirably equipped for the acquirement of knowledge. But acquirement of knowledge was not the only object which the Expedition had in view. It could not be doubted that the region would possess beauty of exceptional grandeur. So it was hoped that the Expedition would discover, describe and reveal to us, by camera and by pen, beauty no less valuable than the knowledge. Footnote: [1] In the enthusiasm of the moment I seem to have displayed a regrettable excess of “nationalism”! According to the record, I expressed the hope that it would be an Englishman who first stood on the summit of Mount Everest. I trust my foreign friends will excuse me! I have this at least to plead in extenuation, that if I have always striven for my own countrymen when they led the way, I have never been backward in helping explorers of other nationalities whom I have met in the Himalaya; and I have received the thanks of both the French and Italian Governments for the help I have given to French and Italian explorers. THE NARRATIVE OF THE EXPEDITION By LIEUT.-COL. C. K. HOWARD-BURY, D.S.O. CHAPTER I FROM DARJEELING THROUGH SIKKIM Early in May most of the members of the Expedition had assembled at Darjeeling. Mr. Raeburn had been the first to arrive there in order to collect as many coolies of the right type as he could. I had come out a few weeks earlier in order to visit the Indian Authorities at Simla and to make sure that there were no political difficulties in the way. There I found every one very kind and helpful and all were anxious to do their best to assist the Expedition. Owing to the heavy deficit in the Indian Budget, the expenses of every Department had been rigorously cut down, and the Government of India were unable to give us financial assistance. They agreed, however, to take upon themselves the whole of the expenses of the survey, and to lend the Expedition the services of an officer of the Geological Department. The Viceroy, Lord Reading, who, together with Lady Reading, took the greatest interest in the Expedition, kindly gave us a subscription of 750 rupees, and at Darjeeling the Governor of Bengal, Lord Ronaldshay, had not only put up several members of the Expedition at his most comfortable house, but had also given the Expedition several rooms in which to collect their stores for separation and division into loads. Local stores, such as tea, sugar, flour and potatoes had to be bought on the spot. Coolies had to be collected and arrangements made for fitting them out with boots and warm clothing. The coolies were to receive pay at the rate of 12 annas per day while in Sikkim, and when in Tibet were to receive another 6 annas per day, either in cash or the equivalent in rations. The former proved the most acceptable eventually, except during the period when the coolies were up on the glaciers, where there were no villages and consequently nothing could be bought. A passport had been sent to us by the Government at Lhasa under the seal of the Prime Minister of Tibet, of which the following is a translation:— To The Jongpens and Headmen of Pharijong, Ting-ke, Khamba and Kharta. You are to bear in mind that a party of Sahibs are coming to see the Chha-mo-lung-ma mountain and they will evince great friendship towards the Tibetans. On the request of the Great Minister Bell a passport has been issued requiring you and all officials and subjects of the Tibetan Government to supply transport, e.g. riding ponies, pack animals and coolies as required by the Sahibs, the rates for which should be fixed to mutual satisfaction. Any other assistance that the Sahibs may require either by day or by night, on the march or during halts, should be faithfully given, and their requirements about transport or anything else should be promptly attended to. All the people of the country, wherever the Sahibs may happen to come, should render all necessary assistance in the best possible way, in order to maintain friendly relations between the British and Tibetan Governments. Dispatched during the Iron-Bird Year. Seal of the Prime Minister. Our start had been originally arranged for the middle of May, but the “Hatarana,” in which were most of our stores, was unable to obtain a berth, as accommodation in the Docks at Calcutta was very insufficient for the large number of steamers that call there; she had therefore to lie out in the Hoogly for a fortnight before she could get room in the Docks. However, by May 11 everything was unloaded at Calcutta. The Darjeeling-Himalayan Railway had generously given the Expedition a free pass over their line for all stores and goods, and as the Customs had granted a free entry into the country, everything was up in Darjeeling by May 14. The time of waiting at Darjeeling had, however, not been wasted. Four cooks had been engaged for the Expedition and some forty coolies. These were Sherpa Bhotias, whose homes were in the North-east corner of Nepal, some of them coming from villages only a few miles to the South of Mount Everest. They were an especially hardy type of coolie, accustomed to living in a cold climate and at great heights. They were Buddhists by religion and therefore had no caste prejudices about food, and could eat anything. They proved at times quarrelsome and rather fond of strong drink; they turned out, however, to be a useful and capable type of man, easily trained in snow and ice work and not afraid of the snow. We later on picked up a few Tibetan coolies in the Chumbi Valley and these proved to be as good as the best of the Sherpas. They were very hardy and got on well with the Tibetans, who were always rather suspicious of our Nepalese coolies. They were also less troublesome to manage and could carry heavy loads at great heights. These coolies had all to be fitted with boots and very difficult this sometimes proved to be, as often their feet were almost as broad as they were long. Blankets, cap comforters, fur gloves and warm clothing were issued to all of them, and for those who had to sleep at the highest camps, eiderdown sleeping-bags were also taken. Arrangements had also to be made for interpreters to accompany the Expedition, as with the exception of Major Morshead, who knew a little Tibetan, no one was able to speak the language. It was a matter of great importance to get hold of the right type of man as interpreter. It was essential to find men of some position and standing who knew not only the Tibetan language, but also all their ways and customs. After many names had been suggested, we were very lucky in getting hold of two men who possessed these qualifications to a great extent. Gyalzen Kazi, who came from Gangtok in Sikkim, where he was a Kazi and landowner, was a young and ambitious man who knew the Tibetan language well and was well read in their sacred writings and scriptures. The other one, Chheten Wangdi, was a Tibetan who had been for a time a captain in the Tibetan army, and who had left them and been attached to the Indian army in Egypt during the war. He was a most energetic, hard-working man, knew all the Tibetan manners and customs, and was up to all their tricks of procrastination and attempts at overcharging. By his knowledge and persuasive powers the Expedition was saved many thousand rupees. The Expedition when it left Darjeeling included nine Europeans. The Alpine climbers were Mr. Harold Raeburn, Dr. A. M. Kellas, Mr. G. L. Mallory and Mr. C. H. Bullock. Dr. Kellas had unfortunately in the early spring of this year tried his constitution very severely by climbing Narsing,[2] and he had also spent several nights at very low temperatures in camps over 20,000 feet, on the slopes of Kabru,[2] so that when he arrived at Darjeeling a few days before the Expedition was due to start, he was not in as fit a condition as he should have been. The two Surveyors were Major H. T. Morshead, D.S.O., and Major O. E. Wheeler, M.C. These officers had been lent by the Survey of India. Major Morshead had already a considerable experience of travelling in the Eastern borders of Tibet and in the Kham country, where he had carried out some useful survey work, and under him were three native surveyors, one of whom was left in Sikkim to revise the existing maps, which were very inaccurate, while the other two, Gujjar Singh and Lalbir Singh, accompanied the Expedition and filled in all the details of the country traversed on their plane tables at a scale of 4 miles to the inch. Major O. E. Wheeler, the other Surveyor, was a member of the Canadian Alpine Club and a very keen climber himself. He was an expert in the Canadian system of Photo Survey—a method especially useful and applicable to a difficult and mountainous country. The Indian Government had also lent the Expedition the services of Dr. A. M. Heron, of the Geological Survey of India, in order to study the geology of the country through which it was about to go, and about which nothing was known, and to investigate the problems which surround the age and the structure of the Himalayan range. Besides these, there was Mr. A. F. Wollaston, a member of the Alpine Club and a very distinguished traveller as well, who had made some most interesting journeys around Ruwenzori in Africa and in the interior of New Guinea. He accompanied the Expedition in the capacity of Doctor, Naturalist and Botanist, and was equipped with a complete collector's outfit. During our time of enforced waiting at Darjeeling, we came in for the Lebong races—a unique and very amusing entertainment. The course is a small circular one, where the top of the Lebong spur has been levelled, and only genuine Tibetan and Bhotia ponies are allowed to race there. There were always large entries for these races, as they were very popular among the hill-folk, who flocked into Darjeeling from great distances, dressed in their finest clothes and with their women covered with jewellery and wearing clothing of brilliant shades of green and red. There was very heavy betting on each race, and the amount of money that the coolies, sirdars or servants were able to put up was astonishing. In most of the races there was at least a field of ten, which made the start a very amusing affair. The jockeys were all hill- boys, and as they and the ponies were up to every dodge and trick, and were equally anxious to get off first, and as most of the ponies had mouths of iron, it was always a long time before a start could be made, and in nearly every race one or more of the ponies would run out of the course at the point nearest its own home. On May 13 Major Morshead with his assistant surveyors and fifty coolies left Darjeeling for Khamba Dzong. They went the direct road up the Teesta Valley correcting the Sikkim map as they went along. Their object in going this way was to connect the Indian Survey with the new survey that it was proposed to carry out in Tibet. This would occupy all Major Morshead's time until we should be able to join him at Khamba Dzong in June. The chief transport of the Expedition consisted of 100 mules belonging to the Supply and Transport Corps and lent to us by the Commander-in-Chief. These arrived at Darjeeling a few days before we were due to start and were camped in the open on the old parade ground at the top of Katapahar. Sub-Conductor Taylor, who had already had experience of mule transport in Tibet in 1904–5, and was to have come in charge of them, was unfortunately laid up at the last moment with a bad attack of influenza. The next man chosen was passed medically unfit, and the third man in temporary charge of the mules was, when he arrived at Darjeeling, already suffering from ague. It was not till May 15 that Sergeant Fowkes arrived, who was to take charge of the mules. He was a very capable and energetic N.C.O., and their subsequent failure was in no way due to him, but solely to the fact that the mules were in no kind of condition to do hard work in the hills, being sleek and fat from the plains where they had had very little work to do. The muleteers, or drabies, were all hill-men and had been picked out specially for us and fitted out with every kind of warm clothing. Though there were a hundred mules, this did not mean that there were a hundred mules to carry our loads—so much extra warm clothing and blankets had been given to the drabies that together with all their line gear it needed twenty-seven mules to carry their kit, which left only seventy- three mules for the Expedition loads, each mule carrying 160 lb., and this was not nearly sufficient for our requirements. A certain amount of our stores had therefore to be left behind at Government House, Darjeeling, for a second journey, and we only took with us sufficient food and supplies for three and a half months, relying on the mules going back and returning with the remainder of the stores in July or August. Owing to the camping grounds being small, and bungalow accommodation limited on the journey across Sikkim, we divided ourselves into two parties with fifty mules and twenty coolies in each party; Wollaston, Wheeler, Mallory and myself being with the first party and Raeburn, Kellas, Bullock and Heron with the second. The first party left Darjeeling on May 18, and the second party the following day. I remained behind to see the second party off, and then by doing a double march I caught the first party up that evening at Kalimpong, not, however, without noticing on the way that several of our mules were already knocked up. The night before we started rain came down in torrents, and it was still pouring when the mules came round in the morning, and though the rain stopped soon afterwards yet the hillsides were all wreathed in soft grey mists and every moss-hung branch and tree dripped steadily with moisture all day long. The first day's march from Darjeeling was to Peshoke—a seventeen-mile march and down hill all the way after Ghoom. From Darjeeling we gradually ascended some 500 feet to Ghoom and then for 6 miles followed the well-engineered cart road which leads below Senchal to the new military cantonment of Takda which is, I believe, about to be abandoned, as the Gurkhas, for whom it was built, are not at all happy there. During the war it was used as a German internment camp. Along this ridge there are magnificent forests of evergreen oaks, all of which were covered with ferns and orchids and long trailing mosses. This first ridge rising straight out of the plains condenses all the moisture-laden winds that blow up from the Bay of Bengal and causes it almost always to be enveloped in clouds and mists. The path now rapidly descended 4,000 feet, through tea plantations. The whole hillside was covered with tea bushes, neatly planted in lines, and showing a very vivid green at this time of the year. Here and there grew tall tree ferns, 20 feet to 30 feet in height, their stems covered with ferns and Coelogene orchids. The air was now growing hotter and hotter as we descended, but the wonderful and varied vegetation, the beautiful and brilliantly coloured butterflies—for which the Teesta Valley is famous—that flitted across the path in front of us, proved an irresistible attraction, and made us forget the fact that we were dripping with perspiration from every pore. We had already descended nearly 5,000 feet by the time that we reached the P.W.D. bungalow at Peshoke, which was situated in a clearing in the forest. We were, however, still 2,000 feet above the muddy Teesta River which ran down below us in its steamy gorge, and the next morning saw us descending 2,000 feet through a Sal forest by a slippery path of clay leading to the suspension bridge which crosses the mighty river that with its affluents drains the whole of Sikkim. It rushes along with irresistible force in mighty waves and rapids, and though attempts have been made to float timber down it for commercial purposes, yet the current is too swift and the logs were all smashed to pieces. Here at the bridge we were only 700 feet above the sea and the heat was intense. Several mules had been left exhausted at Peshoke and had been unable to proceed the following day and several more only just reached Kalimpong, the second day's march, only 12 miles from Peshoke, but the climb of 3,300 feet up from the bridge over the Teesta in the steamy and enervating heat proved too much for them. The forests here were very beautiful—huge sal trees and giant terminalia abounded with weird and wonderful creepers embracing their stems, or hanging down from their branches. The handsome pothos—the finest of the creepers—grew everywhere. The curious pandanus or screw pine displayed its long and picturesque fronds, while here and there among the dark green of the tropical forest showed up as a brilliant patch of colour the scarlet blooms of the clerodendrons. Above the forests the hillsides had been terraced with immense labour into rice fields, which at this time of year were not yet planted out, but the fields of maize were already ripening. At Kalimpong there was a large and comfortable Dak bungalow, surrounded by a well-kept garden full of roses and scarlet hibiscus with a beautiful and large-flowered mauve solanum growing up the pillars on the verandah. At Kalimpong we were entertained by Dr. Graham and his charming daughters, who showed us true hospitality and kindness. They live in a very pretty house embowered in roses on the crest of the hill and commanding lovely views over the Teesta Valley and up to the snowy peaks of Kanchenjunga. Higher up on the spur are the homes and the industrial schools that many years of hard work have brought into being, thanks to the indefatigable labours of Dr. Graham and the late Mrs. Graham; these now hold between 600 and 700 pupils, both boys and girls, who, when they leave these schools, have all been taught some useful trade and are sent out as useful members of society. They are given as practical an education as could be wished for anywhere. At the Grahams' house I met David Macdonald, the British Trade Agent at Yatung, who was acting temporarily as political agent in Sikkim until Major Bailey arrived from England. He was an old friend of mine, as I had met him before in Tibet. He promised us every assistance in his power and had telegraphed to Yatung and to the Jongpen at Phari to have supplies and anything we wanted in readiness at those places. He told me that an old Tibetan Lama, who knew Mount Everest well, had described it as “Miti guti cha-phu long-nga,” “the mountain visible from all directions, and where a bird becomes blind if it flies so high.” Throughout our journey across Sikkim the weather was very bad, with heavy falls of rain every day and night. We had had the bad luck to strike the Chota Bursat, or little monsoon, which usually heralds the coming of the proper monsoon a fortnight or three weeks later. The march to Pedong was an easy one of 14 miles with a gentle climb of 3,000 feet followed by a descent of 2,000 feet past gardens beautiful with their great trees of scarlet hibiscus, daturas and bougainvilleas, which grew with wonderful luxuriance in this climate where frost is almost unknown in winter and where in summer the temperature scarcely ever exceeds 85° Fahrenheit. We passed some of the most wonderful datura hedges that I have ever seen with trees 15 feet to 20 feet in height and laden with hundreds of enormous white trumpet-shaped blooms 8 inches in diameter and fully a foot long. I could only stand and admire. At night these great white flowers glowed as though with phosphorescence in the dark and had a strangely sweet smell. I got thoroughly soaked on the march, for a couple of minutes of these deluges are sufficient to go through any waterproof. Our mules were now beginning to give us great trouble. Several had to be left behind after each march and fresh animals had to be hired locally to replace those left behind. At Pedong there were more wonderful daturas, and all along the next march we kept passing grand bushes of these flowers. It rained all that night and most of the following day, so that we had a very wet and trying march to Rongli—the distance was only 12 miles, but this included a very steep descent of over 3,000 feet to the bottom of a steamy valley, followed by a climb of 3,000 feet across an intervening ridge and then down another 2,000 feet to the Rongli bungalow. The poor mules were very tired by the end of the march and one had died of colic on the way. Most of the others too were getting very sore backs from the constant rain. On the way Wollaston and I stopped at Rhenock to have a look at the Chandra Nursery kept by Tulsi Dass, where there were many interesting plants, chiefly collected in the Sikkim forests. There was a tree growing everywhere in the forests with a white flower which Sikkim people called Chilauni, and all along the paths the Sikkim durbar had been busy planting mulberry, walnut and toon trees. There was a curious pink ground plant that grew in the forests which I was told belonged to the Amomum species. There were also beautiful orchids in the trees, mauve, white and yellow, belonging to the Dendrobium, Coelogene and Cymbidium families—some with fine sprays of flowers 18 inches long. Here at Rongli the mules were so tired that we had to give them a day's rest before they could go on any further. It was a hot and feverish spot to stop in, and only necessity compelled us to do so, as we were unable to get any extra transport the following morning to supplement the mules that were sick. All that day we had passed numbers of mules coming down from Tibet laden with bales of wool, and others were returning to Tibet with sheets of copper, manufactured goods, grain and rice which had been bought in exchange. The dark faces of the muleteers with their turquoise earrings formed a pretty picture and they were full of friendly smiles and greetings for us. The mules travelled on their own—if any mule stopped on the path, a stone always aimed with the greatest accuracy reminded him that it was time to go on. Owing to our having to halt a day at Rongli, we had to stop the second party, and were able to do this at Ari, a bungalow 3 miles short of Rongli. I rode up to see how they were getting on, and found they were having the same trouble with their mules that we had been having. On May 23 we left for Sedongchen, or Padamchen as the Tibetans called it. Sedongchen is the old local name, so-called because there once grew there a very large “Sedong” tree. This is a tree that has a white sap which irritates the skin intensely and sets up a rash. Sedongchen was only 9 miles from Rongli, but there was a very steep climb, from 2,700 feet up to 7,000 feet, and our mules only just managed to arrive there. The first part of the way is alongside the rushing stream of the Rongli, through lovely woods and dense tropical vegetation. Caladiums, kolocasias and begonias were growing on every rock, and the giant pothos with its large shining leaves grew up the stems of many of the trees. Climbers of all kinds, such as vines and peppers, hung down from the branches. Here, too, were magnificent forest trees, fully 150 feet high, with clean straight trunks and without a branch for a hundred feet; others nearly equally tall, which the Sikkim people call “Panisage,” had huge buttresses and trunks nearly 40 feet in circumference. Every branch here was covered by thick matted growth of orchids. For the first time since leaving Darjeeling the sun shone, and after we left the forests we found the uphill climb very hot. On to-day's march, out of the fifty mules with which we started there were only fourteen carrying our own kit, and of those fourteen we found on arrival at Sedongchen that none would be fit to proceed on the following day. It was therefore with great reluctance that I felt compelled to send back the Government mules, as they could not only not carry their own line gear, but had become an extra and very large source of expense and worry to us. That the mules should have completely broken down like this after a five days' march showed that they must have been in no kind of training and condition and were completely unfitted for heavy work in the mountains. The hill ponies and mules that we had hired to supplement them, although they had been given the heaviest loads, always arrived first, and made nothing of each march. By this failure of the Government transport we were now thrown back on our own resources, and obliged to depend everywhere on what local transport we could obtain, and this often took some time to collect. At Sedongchen there was a pleasant bungalow, rather Swiss in appearance, with fine views down the Rongli Valley and across all the forest ridges over which we had come, right back to Darjeeling. Opposite us, to the South-east, were densely wooded hills with clouds and mists drifting along the tops, while here and there a waterfall showed up white amidst the dark green vegetation. Rain came down steadily all night, but the morning proved somewhat finer. Being on the main trade route, we were luckily able to get other transport to replace the Government mules and to arrange for hired mules as far as Yatung. The local animal is a wonderful beast, extremely sure footed, and not minding in the least a climb of 6,000 feet. The path from Sedongchen is really only a stone causeway, very slippery and unpleasant either to walk or ride upon, but probably anything else would be worn away by the torrential rains that fall here. At one place we had to make a wide detour, as the rain of the night before had washed away some hundred yards of the pathway, but luckily this was not in a very steep part, as otherwise we might have been delayed for several days. The constant rain had already brought out the leeches, and on most of the stones or blades of grass beside the path they sat waiting for their meal of blood and clung on to any mule or human being that passed by. The mules suffered severely, and drops of blood on the stones became frequent from the bleeding wounds. The climb from Sedongchen to Gnatong was very steep with a rise of over 5,000 feet in the first 5 miles, and we soon got out of the zone of the leeches and on to the most wonderful zone of flowering rhododendrons. The rhododendrons in the lower forest chiefly consisted of R. Argenteum and R. Falconeri. These grew in a great forest of oaks and magnolias, all covered with beautiful ferns among which showed up delightful mauve or white orchids. The lower rhododendrons had already flowered, but as we got higher we found masses of R. Cinnabarinum, with flowers showing every shade of orange and red. Then came rhododendrons of every colour—pink, deep crimson, yellow, mauve, white or cream coloured. It was impossible to imagine anything more beautiful, and every yard of the path was a pure delight. Among the smaller flowers were the large pink saxifrage, while the deep reddish-purple primula covered every open space. There was also a very tiny pink primula—the smallest I have ever seen—and another one like a pink primrose, that grew on the banks above the path. We went along quite slowly all the way, botanising and admiring the scenery. The path mostly led along the top of a ridge, and the views and colours of the many-hued rhododendrons in the gullies on either side were very delightful. Gnatong, where we were to spend the night, was a very small and rather dirty village lying in a hollow and surrounded by grassy hills. The fir trees (Abies Webbiana) no longer surrounded it, as those anywhere near had been cut down for firewood, or for building houses. From here I was able to telephone to Mr. Isaacs, Mr. Macdonald's head clerk at Yatung, to ask him to make arrangements for ponies and mules for us both at Yatung and at Phari now that our transport had broken down. Wonderful rumours seemed to have preceded our advent. Stories that we were coming with 1,000 mules and 500 men seemed to have been spread about in Tibet. Gnatong is a most depressing place, and only owes its existence to the fact that it is the first stopping place for the caravans that cross over the Jelep Pass on the British side of the frontier. Rain always falls there, the rainfall in the year being nearly 200 inches, and when rain does not fall the place is enveloped in mist, with the result that the mud was horrible. It poured with rain all the time that we were there and we left again in heavy rain for the Jelep Pass 8 miles distant. We were already over 12,000 feet when we started, and the top of the pass was 14,390 feet, so that it was not a very serious climb. There was no view of any kind to be had as the rain fell steadily all the way and the hillsides were all veiled in mist. We had occasional glimpses of a hillside pink, white or yellow with rhododendrons, which now grew only about 5 feet high. I counted six or seven different varieties of primulas on the way, but near the top there was still plenty of the old winter snow lying about and the Alpine flowers were scarcely out. A big heap of stones marked the summit of the pass and the frontier between Sikkim and Tibet, and a few sticks, to which were attached strings covered with small pieces of rag on which were inscribed prayers, fluttered out in the strong wind that always blows up there. In the cold rain this was not a cheerful spot to linger in, so we hurried on down a steep and stony path and after descending a few hundred feet emerged out of the mist and rain and obtained glimpses of a really blue sky such as we had not seen for weeks. We had arrived at last in Tibet. Footnote: [2] Narsing and Kabru are two high mountains in the North of Sikkim. CHAPTER II THE CHUMBI VALLEY AND THE TIBETAN PLATEAU The range of mountains which here forms the boundary between Sikkim and Tibet runs nearly North and South, and the two main passes across it are the Jelep La and the Nathu La, the latter being a few miles to the North of the Jelep La and about the same height. The Jelep La being the main trade route across which the telegraph line runs, and over which the postal runners travel, is kept open all the year round, though often after a heavy blizzard it is closed for ten days or a fortnight. On the Sikkim side the snow-fall is always the heaviest; this range of mountains stops most of the moist currents that drive up from the Bay of Bengal, with the result that the rainfall in the Chumbi Valley on the Tibetan side is only about a quarter of what it is at Gnatong on the Sikkim side. The descent into the Chumbi Valley was very steep and stony, as there was a drop of over 5,000 feet from the top of the pass. The beauty of the valley and its wild flowers made up, however, for the badness of the path. The rhododendrons on the descent were extremely fine, and the whole character of the vegetation was altered and became more European. The great pink rhododendron Aucklandi showed up splendidly in the dark forests of silver fir (A. Webbiana) which here grows into a fine tree. There was also the yellow rhododendron Campylocarpum and a white rhododendron, probably Decorum; the beautiful R. Cinnabarinum with its orange bells of waxy flowers relieved the darkness of the firs. There was a small Tibetan rest-house called Langra where our coolies wanted to stop, but we pushed on past this and descended steeply through more wonderful forests. As we got lower we found birch, sycamore, willow and elder still clothed in the light green of early spring. A fine white clematis, a pink and white spiræa, a yellow berberis, white roses and the dark purple iris grew in profusion on either side of the path. Underneath these were the small flowers of the wild strawberry, which the Macdonald family collected later on in the year and made into jam in great quantities. Near the entrance to this side valley we came to Old Yatung with its Chinese custom-house and wall built right across the valley to keep the British from going any further. All this was now deserted and in ruins. Soon afterwards we arrived in the main Chumbi Valley where were broad fields filled with potatoes and ripening barley. The houses here were mostly built of stone and wood and in two stories. In character they much resembled Tirolese houses except for the elaborate carving over the doors and windows and the many colours in which they were painted. We passed through the prosperous villages of Richengong, Phema and Chumbi before arriving at New Yatung, or Shassi as the Tibetans still prefer to call it. Here was a comfortable bungalow overlooking the bazaar on the other side of the river. Knowing that we had had a long and tiring march and that our coolies would only arrive late that night, Mrs. Macdonald had with much thoughtfulness sent over her servants who had tea and dinner prepared for us on a generous scale. No attention could have been more acceptable. It rained steadily all that night—a somewhat unusual occurrence in this valley—but the next morning it cleared up and the day was delightful. The Chumbi Valley is one of the richest valleys in Tibet. Yatung lies at a height of 9,400 feet. Apples and pears do well here, and barley, wheat and potatoes are grown in great quantities. At this time of the year the air is scented by the wild roses which grow in large bushes covered with hundreds of cream- coloured and sweetly scented flowers. The villages all look extremely prosperous and an air of peace and contentment seems to pervade the valley. We had to hire a new lot of animals to take us on to Phari—28 miles further up the Chumbi Valley. These all arrived in good time, and by eight o'clock on May 27 our loads were all on their way. Before leaving, I sent off a telegram to Sir Francis Younghusband to announce the arrival of the Expedition in Tibet, a telegram which arrived opportunely at the Anniversary Dinner of the Royal Geographical Society, just at the commencement of dinner. There is a small garrison at Yatung, consisting of twenty-five men of the 73rd Carnatics. There was also a hospital and a supply depot from which we were able to purchase sugar, flour, ata (coarse native flour) and potatoes, while later on we were able to send back to it for further supplies. We formed quite an imposing procession as we started off: Wollaston and myself on our ponies, Gyalzen Kazi and Chheten Wangdi, our interpreters, on their ponies which they had brought along with them. There was Mr. Isaacs, the head clerk, with a red-coated chaprassi and a syce also mounted, who accompanied us on a visit to two monasteries further up the valley. The path followed close to the banks of the Ammo-chu, which was now a clear stream and contained many a likely pool for fish. The valley was full of delightful flowers; curious ground orchids, with several beautiful varieties of the ladies' slipper grew there; the wild roses, especially the large red one, were very sweet-scented and filled the air with fragrance. Berberis, clematis and some charming dwarf rhododendrons abounded. After going about 3 miles the valley narrowed, and we passed the spot where the Chinese had built another wall across the valley to keep us out. Just above this wall there was a deserted Chinese village, for now all the Chinese have been driven out of the country and are not allowed to go back and live there. High above us on the hillside was the Punagang Monastery belonging to the old sect of the Bhompo's, who turn their prayer wheels the opposite to every one else and always keep to the right of Chortens and Mani walls. This monastery was too far off the path for us to visit it. We soon afterwards passed the large and flourishing village of Galinka surrounded by fields of barley. Here we turned aside to visit the Galinka Monastery, which stood in the midst of the village. This was quite a new building, with a great gilt image of Buddha inside it. The monks were still busy painting pictures of scenes from the life of Buddha on the walls. They apparently did quite a good trade in selling clay images of Buddha in his different forms and postures. These were stamped by a very well cut brass die, which the monks told me had been made at Shigatse. In a side room was a huge prayer wheel some 12 feet high and 5 feet to 6 feet in diameter. It was covered over with painted leather inscribed with the usual Om Mani Padme Hum (Hail, jewel of the lotus flower). They told us the inside was also filled with prayers, and that it contained one and a half million of these, so that each time the wheel was turned a million and a half prayers were said for the person who turned it. After each complete revolution it rings a bell. We were allowed to turn it several times, so that I hope the many million prayers sent up may benefit us. After leaving the monastery, the path rose steeply and the river came down in a series of waterfalls. Above us were masses of pink and mauve rhododendrons, flowering cherries, viburnum, berberis, roses and other delightful shrubs. Soon afterwards, at the entrance to the Lingmatang plain, we crossed the river and rode up a rocky spur formed of great boulders that had some time or another fallen down and blocked up the valley, forming a lake some 2 miles long, but this lake no longer existed, and there was only a flat grassy plain grazed over by yaks and ponies. On the top of the spur was the Donka Monastery in a grand situation, commanding beautiful views up and down the valley. I had hoped to see my friend the Geshe Lama or Geshe Rimpoche, as he is sometimes known, with whom I had lunched last year at the hot springs at Kambu, but unfortunately he was away at Lhasa. He is a man of very great learning and held in high veneration throughout these valleys. On entering the big stone courtyard of the monastery a crowd of children and Lamas at once flocked round us. We were shown over the main temple, but it was badly lit with a few butter lamps and we could see little of its contents; amongst these were several statues of Buddha under his different forms. There were also kept there 108 volumes of the Tangyur, one of the Buddhist sacred writings. These books were very curious. Each volume consisted of a number of loose oblong parchment sheets 2 to 3 feet long and from 8 inches to a foot wide. These were kept together by two elaborately carved boards between which they were pressed. The writing was all done by hand by the Lamas, who copied out and illuminated books with the greatest care and skill in the same manner that the monks in the Middle Ages illuminated their missals. The book-shelves of the library consisted of a number of pigeon-holes in the walls in which these volumes were kept. Here, too, they were busy making clay images to bury under the Chorten that they were building above the monastery. Next door was another and newer temple, built to house the Oracle, and called the Sanctuary of the Oracle. He, too, was unfortunately away, as he was taking the hot waters at Kambu, but we were shown his throne and the robes that he puts on when he prophesies. There was a curiously shaped head-dress of silver, adorned all round with silver skulls, and a very quaintly shaped bow and arrow which the Oracle held in one hand while a huge trident was grasped in the other. I am told that he is consulted far and wide and has a great reputation for truth. We were then taken upstairs to a sunny verandah, just outside the Geshe Rimpoche's private room and commanding fine views up and down the valley. Here we were given Tibetan tea, made with salt and butter, and served up in agate cups with beautifully chased silver covers. After drinking this tea we were shown over the Geshe's private apartments and chapel, the prevailing colour scheme of the room being yellow. The little shrines with their silver bowls in front—the incense burner and the flame that is never allowed to go out—were all very interesting to us. We then took a photograph of the Lamas in front of their temple, after which the head Lama accompanied us some way down the path to say good-bye, hoping we would come and see them again on our return. I have alluded several times to the hot springs at Kambu. These springs are two days' journey from Yatung up the Kambu Valley, but can also be reached quite easily from Phari. There is a curious account of these springs written by an old Lama and translated by Major Campbell. The writer describes the Upper Kambu Valley as quite a pleasant spot where cooling streams and medicinal plants are found in abundance. Medicinal waters of five kinds flow from the rocks, forming twelve pools, the waters of which are efficacious in curing the 440 diseases to which the human race is subject. The springs are then made to describe their own qualities in the first person:— 1. THE LHAMO SP RING (The Spring of the Goddess): My virtue is derived from the essence of stone—I am guarded by the Goddess Tsering, and my virtue therefore consists in purging the sins and obscurities of the human body. Those who bathe first in my waters will be purged of all sin and the power of all diseases will be abated. 2. THE CHAGU SP RING (The Spring of the Vulture): My virtue is derived from black sulphur. As regards my properties, a vulture with a broken wing once fell into my waters and was healed. I benefit diseases of women, also sores, gout and fractures. I possess particular virtue for all diseases below the waist. I do not benefit neuralgia, nervous diseases, or loss of appetite. 3 and 4. THE P ON SP RINGS (The Springs of the Official): We two brothers derive our properties from both yellow and black sulphur. One of us provokes catarrh, while the other allays it. A learned man, who wished us well, once said that we were beneficial in cases of hemorrhoids, kidney diseases and rheumatism. We are not aware of possessing these qualities, and rather tend to cause harm in such cases. 5. THE TRAGGYE SP RING (The Spring born of the Rock): My virtue is derived from a combination of sulphur and the essence of stone. I was formerly efficacious in cases of diseases of the arteries and nerve trouble, but later on the Brothers of the Pon Spring rushed down on poor me like tyrants so that no one now regards me. The caretaker of the Springs and visitors treats me like a beggar and pays no attention to me. Even now if some person with the permission of the Brothers of the Pon Spring would carry out some repairs, so as to separate my waters from theirs, I would guarantee to benefit those suffering from arterial diseases, nerve trouble, impurities of the blood and bile. 6. THE SERKA SP RING (The Spring of the Crevice): My virtues are derived from sulphur and carbon. I am not beneficial to those suffering from ailments arising from nerve trouble, bile and acidity. I am beneficial to those suffering from chapped hands and feet due to hard work among earth and stones and also in cases of diseases of the kidneys and bladder. I am somewhat hurtful to those suffering from headache arising from nervous catarrh, or impurities of the blood. 7. THE TANG SP RING (The Spring of the Plain): My virtues are derived from carbon and a little sulphur. I am beneficial in cases of hemorrhoids, kidney disease, rheumatism and other diseases below the waist, also in cases of venereal disease. There is a danger of the waist becoming bent like a bow through too much bathing in my waters. 8. THE TRAGGYAB SP RING (The Spring behind the Rock): I am beneficial in cases of disease of the arteries and anaemia—I am not aware that I am harmful in other cases. 9. THE TONGBU SP RING (The Spring of the Hole): My virtues are derived from a large proportion of crystalline stone and a little sulphur. I guarantee to be beneficial in cases of white phlegm, brown phlegm and other forms of phlegmatic disease. Also in diseases arising out of these, and in cases of impurities of the blood and colic pains. Please bear this in mind. 10. THE NUB (The Western Spring): My virtues are derived from a little carbon. I am beneficial in cases of liver disease, impurities of the blood, flatulence, kidney disease, dyspepsia, brown phlegm, tumours, gout, rheumatism, gleet, and complications arising from these. I do not boast in the way that the other Springs do. 11. THE DZEP O SP RING (The Leper's Spring): I am cousin to the Western Spring. He guarantees to cure diseases arising from two or three causes, also kidney disease, flat foot, rheumatism and gout. I am beneficial in cases of hemorrhoids, gout, rheumatism and diseases of the feet. I possess particular virtue in cases of leprosy, sores and wounds. 12. THE LAMA SP RING (The Spring of the Lama): My virtues are derived from a large proportion of lime and a little sulphur. I am beneficial in cases of lung disease, tumours, dyspepsia, both chronic and recent, poverty of the blood and venereal diseases. WRITTEN BY TSEWANG IN THE HOPE THAT THE PEOPLE OF BHUTAN, SIKKIM, AND THE SURROUNDING COUNTRY WILL BEAR THIS IN MIND. COPIED BY TENRAB, CLEARLY AND EXACTLY, FROM THE ORIGINAL IN THE MALE IRON DOG YEAR IN THE FIRST HALF OF THE EARTH MONTH. After leaving the monastery we had a pleasant gallop across the Lingmatang Plain, after which the valley narrowed again and the path followed close beside the rushing stream. It was a delightful ride through forests of birch, larch, juniper, spruce, silver fir and mountain ash. Never anywhere have I seen birch trees grow to such a size. They were grand rugged old trees that matched the rugged scenery of the gorge. Blue poppies, fritillaries, ground orchids and sweet-scented primulas grew along the path, and mixed up everywhere in the forest were great bushes of R. Cinnabarinum, which varied in shade from yellow and orange to deep red. Wagtails and white-crested redstarts dodged about from rock to rock in the rushing stream, and the clear note of the shrike could usually be heard above the noise of the waters. The weather had luckily kept fine all day, so that we were able to dawdle along and enjoy the scenery and flowers. After going about 12 miles we came to the bungalow of Gautsa, situated at a height of about 12,000 feet, and at the bottom of the gorge; here we spent the night. During the night there was heavy rain, and when we woke in the morning, fresh snow was low down on all the hills and within 1,500 feet of the bungalow. However, the day again proved brilliantly fine. For breakfast we had been given some large wild-goose eggs belonging to the bar-headed goose. Mine I had boiled, and found excellent, though one was sufficient for a meal. Two that the others had were rather passé, and were not equally appreciated. The day's path was at first very stony and climbed steadily uphill beside the torrent of the Ammo-chu. Pale blue iris, yellow primulas, a pink viburnum and a large yellow-belled lonicera grew beside the path, but the rhododendrons were still by far the most wonderful of the flowering shrubs. We passed many big blue meconopsis, and some of these flowers measured fully 3 inches across. Dwarf rhododendrons, only a foot high—some pure white and others pink, continued up until about 13,500 feet, and then the hillsides became purple from another little rhododendron, which looked in the distance like heather and gave the rounded hills quite a Scotch appearance. As we rose higher the flowers decreased in number. Larks and wheatears ran along the ground in front of us, and small tailless marmot rats dodged in and out of their holes as we approached. The distance from Goutsa to Phari was about 16 miles, of which the last 8 miles were over flat country with a springy turf, on which it was a pleasure to be able to canter again after having passed over so many miles of stony roads. Chomolhari, the Mountain of the Goddess, stood up as a wonderful sight with its sharp peak outlined against the clear blue sky. On its summit the wind was evidently very strong, as we could see the fresh snow being whirled off in clouds. Phari is an extremely dirty village dominated by a stone fort and lying under the shadow of the great mountain Chomolhari, 23,930 feet high. It is 14,300 feet above sea level, and the climate there is always cold, as it is never without a strong wind. In the afternoon the Jongpen, or Governor of the district, came to call on me. He was a young man with an intelligent and pleasant face, and came from the country between Khamba Dzong and Shekar Dzong, so that he was able to give us much useful information about the road; he promised that he would write to his brother, who was acting as agent for him at his home, telling him to entertain us and give us all facilities in the matters of transport and supplies. He told us that he had received written instructions from the Lhasa Government to arrange for supplies and transport for us, and he promised that he would do his best. I gave him photographs that I had taken last year of his fort, and also of Chomolhari; these pleased him very much, and in return he presented us with a dried sheep which looked mummified and smelt very strongly, but which proved very acceptable to our coolies. It was necessary to stop here for several days as the second party had to catch up, and they too needed a day's rest. Also the transport that was to carry us along to Khamba Dzong would not be ready for several days, so the following morning I went to call on the Jongpen in his fort, where I found him living in some very dark rooms. I presented him with one of the new lever electric torches, which he much appreciated, though at first he and his servants were rather frightened by it. He gave us tea and sweetmeats, and soon afterwards the head-men of all the villages came in, and were given orders about our transport. Their quaint attitudes of respect and their darkly bronzed faces, that just showed up in the light, reminded me forcibly of an old Dutch picture. Some men, too, had been sent from Khamba Dzong for orders and to know when we should be likely to arrive there. In the course of the afternoon Dr. Heron and I rode over to a monastery about 3 miles away where I had been last year, and where I had taken some photographs. Some prints of these I brought back to the monastery, and the monks were very pleased with them. They were in the middle of a service when we arrived, as it was some kind of festival, and the dark temple was illuminated by hundreds of little butter lamps. The monks were all chanting their scriptures, and this they continued to do all the afternoon. CHOMOLHARI FROM THE SOUTH. On returning to Phari, we found that a message had come from the Jongpen to ask us to dine with him the following evening. The change in the climate and the bad cooking had affected the stomachs of all the members of the Expedition, and none of us was feeling very well. Dr. Kellas was the worst, and as soon as he arrived at Phari he retired to bed. The following morning was misty and the ground was all white with hoar-frost, though it was the last day in May; but as I was anxious to get some photographs of Chomolhari we rode, with the Chaukidar as a guide, through the mist across the plain to some hills just to the South of the great mountain; after a few miles we found ourselves above the clouds with the sun shining in a brilliant blue sky. The whole of the Phari Plain was covered by a sea of clouds. On the far side rose the Pawhunri group of mountains, while further to the South, Kanchenjunga towered above all the other peaks, such as Siniolchum, Kabru and Jonsong, all of which stood out very clearly in this brilliant atmosphere. I rode up a delightful little mountain valley full of dwarf rhododendrons and Alpine primulas until I reached a height of 16,000 feet. We then left the ponies and climbed on to the top of the hill, which was about 17,500 feet; from this point we had glorious views of Chomolhari immediately across the valley, while on the other side we looked over to the snowy peaks and ranges in Bhutan far to the South of us. We found the wind very keen at this height, and after taking several photographs we rode back again to Phari. Here I found the place full of troubles. Our Coolie Sirdar was, as we were beginning to find out, not
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